


A Very Sabriel Hanukkah

by theladywinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse of Angelic Grace, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Gabriel, Bottom Sam, Car Sex, Comeplay, Coming In Pants, Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Smut, Food Sex, Frottage, Gabriel is a Little Shit, Hair-pulling, Hanukkah, Hidden Relationship, I know I'm forgetting shit, M/M, Misuse of driedel, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Strength Kink, Switching, Top Gabriel, Top Sam, Wing Oil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-10 13:53:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8919628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladywinchester/pseuds/theladywinchester
Summary: So, there I was reading "The Twelve Days of Cheesemas" by Elizabeth1985 and having a great time when I got inspired to write Hanukkah porn. This, I'm afraid, is the result. There's a little fluff and a whole lot of porn with a semblance of a plot. Some of this would have me worried about going to Hell, except, you know, Crowley's keeping my seat warm for me.Sorry if anyone gets offended, but I didn't make you read it!Plan is to post a new chapter each night of Hanukkah. Let's hope my internet connection and My Muse are on board with this plan.





	1. The First Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elizabeth1985](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeth1985/gifts).



Not that he didn’t love his brother, but when Dean announced he was hitting a bar for his traditional Christmas Eve bender, Sam eagerly declined in favor of some quiet time. He had immediately settled on his bed in soft sweats and a secondhand copy of A Game of Thrones, reading through half the thick novel before his rumbling stomach broke the stillness. A warm bowl of soup and brushed teeth later, Sam was definitely feeling fine. Scratching his stomach as he padded from the kitchen to his bedroom, he wondered if maybe some _Alone Time_ would do him some good.

His thoughts headed southward, Sam couldn’t help but think of Gabriel. He knew the archangel needed to keep a low profile to stay off Heaven’s radar, but it didn’t make him miss the snarky, sexy little spitfire any less. _Alone Time_ suddenly moved to the top of his to-do list, and he entered his room with a grin.

Sam’s room was dark except for a single tealight candle sitting on his desk. He eyed it with suspicion--that had _definitely_ not been there before. “What the…”

“Chag Sam-meach!”

Startled, Sam visibly jumped at the loud voice behind him. “Jesus!”

Golden eyes twinkled with mischief. “Nope, just me.”

The Winchester’s answering bitchface was softened with fond annoyance. “Gabriel, what are you doing?”

Closing the distance between them, the angel slid his arms around the human’s waist and rested his hands at the small of his back. “Celebrating Hanukkah with you!”

“But...neither of us celebrates Hanukkah.”

“C’mon Sammy, you know the old saying: ‘Everyone’s Jewish on Hanukkah,’ right?”

Sam laughed softly, bringing up his own arms and resting them on the angel’s shoulders. “Pretty sure that’s not how it goes, Gabe.”

Smirking, Gabriel shrugged. “Eh, close enough.” Pulling himself closer, he stretched up to brush his lips gently against Sam’s. “Besides, this gives me eight nights to drive you absolutely wild.”

A few rather steamy memories--most on constant rotation in his spank bank--vied for Sam’s attention. However, he still had to play a little hard to get, right? “Oh really? And what makes you think I’m interested in that?”

Gabriel’s answering snort was followed by a taunting, “Four words, Sammy: Turkey shaped butt plug.” The lovely shade of pink staining Sam’s cheeks was almost enough to distract the angel. Almost. “However, in all seriousness, I don’t want to actually go from zero to sixty here.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up at that. “You don’t? Since when?”

Taking a deep breath, Gabriel looked at Sam, uncharacteristically serious. “There are two prayers said each night of Hanukkah when lighting the candles, but on the first night, there’s an extra prayer. That one shows gratitude for, basically, still being alive to celebrate a special event.” Cupping Sam’s jaw, Gabriel ran his thumb gently along his cheekbone as he gazed deeply into his eyes, allowing Sam to nearly drown in those golden pools he’d grown so fond of. His voice dipped into a whisper as he continued, “I’m grateful that you share yourself with me, Sam, even after everything that’s happened…everything I’ve done...” Firming his jaw, Gabriel was clearly steeling himself for something.

“I love you.”

An entire marching band could have paraded by his room playing “Baby Got Back” while elephants twirled flaming batons and Sam was pretty sure he’d still be more surprised by the angel in his arms. Tension hung thick in the scant space between them, and Sam responded the only way that made sense for the two of them: “Of course you do--I’m Sam Fucking Winchester.”

The angel blinked, taken aback, and Sam took advantage of his distraction to draw Gabriel closer and press his own kiss to those soft, cherished lips. “I love you, too,” he murmured into the other’s mouth.

A slight tensing of Gabriel’s muscles was the only warning Sam got before he found himself with an armful of archangel-turned-spider-monkey. Kisses that started sweet and borderline chaste went downhill fast as Sam cupped his enormous hands under the angel’s ass and carried Gabriel over to his bed, laying him down on the plaid cotton blankets.

With long-standing ease and practice, Gabriel’s legs and lips opened simultaneously to admit Sam with gusto. The angel’s groan vibrated through them both as Sam plundered his mouth, the bite of peppermint mingling with candy sweetness in a way Sam could never get enough of. He was so focused on mapping the back of Gabriel’s teeth with his tongue that the angel flipped them with ease.

As his back thumped to the mattress, Sam couldn’t hold back a moan. Gabriel didn’t pull out his considerable strength often-- _It’s called “manhandling” because huMANs are meant to do it, Sammich_ \--but when he did, it generally went straight to Sam’s dick. This time was no exception as Little Sam went from getting interested to rock solid so fast it almost hurt. Given the outright smirk twisting Gabe’s decadent mouth as he pressed down on Sam’s thick biceps to keep him prone, the winged fucker knew exactly what he was doing to Sam.

“You ready for your first present, Samsquatch?” was accompanied by a sinuous roll of the angel’s hips. The sweet drag of their cotton-clad cocks had Sam’s back arching along with a much louder moan this time.

“Fuck, Gabe!”

“Not on the menu for tonight. Maybe later this week.”

Another roll of the hips, but this time Sam’s wrecked groan was swallowed up by Gabriel’s greedy mouth as he pulled the Winchester in for a steamy kiss. Gabriel never stopped grinding as he kissed, licked, sucked, and bit his way across Sam’s jawline and down the long column of his neck. Sam could feel the angel’s fingers slip-sliding through his hair as his head was angled this way and that to allow for maximum access.

Suddenly, the liquid warmth was gone, cool air rushing in to fill the gap left as Gabriel pulled his head back. Mischievously arched eyebrows greeted him when Sam convinced his eyes to focus.

“Wha--?” Like a flash, Gabriel’s hands tangled in Sam’s chestnut locks, pulling sharply as he ground down onto Sam harder than before.

And that was it. Sam went off with a jerk and a yell, cock throbbing and soaking warmth into the front of his sweats as he came in his pants like he was a fucking teenager. But between his orgasmic haze and the deep satisfaction of hearing and watching Gabe come the same way moments later, Sam couldn’t find any fucks to give about it.

Gabriel dropped his forehead against Sam’s, each slowly gathering oxygen back into their endorphin-flooded bodies through mouths bent with giddy smiles. “Good first Hanukkah, Sammy?” Gabe breathed, following up with a gentle press of lips.

Sam’s sex-stupid smile got wider. “Amen, Gabe,” he replied, punctuating the statement with a kiss of his own.

“You know, there’s seven more nights to go.”

The responding chuckle rumbled through both their bodies. “Am I going to survive this, Gabe?”

The angel appeared to consider this for a moment, then shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But what a way to go, right?”

Rolling his eyes, Sam managed to convince his arms to move, wrapping them tightly around the angel. “Shut up and kiss me again, asshole.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” As he leaned in, the unmistakable sound of the bunker entrance opening rang through the otherwise-silent halls. The two exchanged mildly annoyed looks.

“That’s my cue, Sammy. See you tomorrow night.” One last rabbit-quick kiss and Gabriel snapped his fingers, leaving Sam with clean, dry pants then popping out angel-style before the Winchester even had time to chide him about the gratuitous use of Grace.

With a sleepy, satisfied smile, Sam hauled up his fuck-clumsy body. He managed to blow out the tiny candle before collapsing back onto the bed. Curling under the covers, Sam drifted off to sleep wondering just what in the Hell the next week had in store for him.

And looking forward to every minute of it.


	2. The Second Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas Day, which also happens to be the second night of Hanukkah. There's too much booze and too much big brother around. Good thing for Gabriel he's so creative (Sam's still undecided about this...).

So far, this Christmas had been a pretty typical one for the Winchester brothers. Both of them rolled out of bed well after noon, Dean predictably hung over and a bitch to deal with for a couple of hours as a result ( _ Dammit, Sam, do you have to breathe so loud?!) _ .

Two pots of coffee and some leftover pizza finally got the older Winchester close enough to human that they decided to exchange presents. Sam gave Dean a wax-and-polish kit for Baby, a wicked looking hunting knife he’d geeked out over at the Army surplus (Sam graciously decided not to remind him about that), and a fresh bottle of whiskey that came from a higher shelf than they were used to drinking from. Dean gave Sam the DVDs of “The Hobbit” trilogy, a bottle of the all-natural aftershave he’d been teasing Sam mercilessly for using, and a gallon of some honest-to-Chuck eggnog sold by the local firehouse as a holiday fundraiser.  

A generously-poured mug of eggnog each and the boys were feeling good enough to make themselves dinner. Side-by-side, they turned ground beef and stale bread into a passable meatloaf. 

Sam popped open a can of creamed corn and warmed it up on the stove while the oven worked its magic and wafted mouth-watering smells all over the bunker. Although he was enjoying this down-time with Dean, he couldn’t help but wonder if all this brotherly bonding was putting a kink in Gabriel’s grand plan to bang his way through Hanukkah. Dean hadn’t taken Gabriel’s return well, so keeping their... _whatever_ a secret from him was probably for the best. Of course, that also meant he couldn’t sexile his brother to some corner of the bunker while he rocked the archangel’s world. He was so distracted trying to imagine how they could work around the green-eyed cockblock to his left he lost track of just how much he was drinking while they cooked.

“Smells damn good, there, Sammy.”

“Mmmhmm.” Sam tipped up his mug, only to find it depressingly empty. He stared at the cup like it just insulted his ancestry. “Where’d my eggnog go?”

“Need a refill on your holiday cheer, little brother?” Dean asked, opening his bottle of whiskey and pouring himself a generous portion. “Maybe switch things up?”

“If you insist…” 

The whiskey went down so smoothly, they decided another was called for, and so on. When Sam’s phone beeped to announce the meatloaf was ready, the bottle was more than half empty and the Winchesters were fully loaded. While it wasn’t enough for them to worry about dropping their plates as they moved to eat at the large library table-- _ C’mon Dean, it’s a holiday! And doesn’t it look so classy with just the two lamps going?-- _ it was enough to keep them merry and bright as the brothers took their customary seats across from each other and prepared to dig into their humble feast.

Dean scooped a forkful of meatloaf into his mouth and let out a moan that was borderline pornographic. Sam shot up an eyebrow. “You two want to be alone?” he quipped, smirk cocked with full snark.

“Shut up, bitch,” Dean shot back, or at least Sam assumed that’s what he said. It was hard to tell through the mouthful of food.

“Nice manners, jerk.” Picking up his fork, Sam was about to start on his own meal when a hand on his inner thigh nearly shocked him out of his seat.

Looking down, Sam’s eyes widened as he took in a very mischievous looking Gabriel settled under the table between his spread legs. The angel pressed a finger to his lips and darted his eyes toward Dean.  _ Don’t let your brother know I’m here _ came through loud and clear.

Popping up an eyebrow, Sam checked that his brother was still completely absorbed in his food before glancing down and mouthing  _ What the Hell are you-- _

Before he could even finish his thought, Gabriel unzipped Sam’s jeans and reached inside. The human barely had time to register the warmth of the angel’s hand on his dick before it was pulled through the hole in his boxers and his open fly. Clearly, efficiency was the name of Gabriel’s game that evening as he wasted no time stroking Sam to full hardness as soon as the considerable length was freed from its denim prison.

“Sam? You ok?”

_ Jesus! Dean! _ Sam had forgotten his brother was still there. Pulling himself together, he blanked his face as much as possible and looked over at Dean. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

A soft snort floated up to him from under the table, and suddenly Sam found the head of his cock surrounded in the wet warmth of Gabriel’s incredibly talented mouth. 

“You sure? You don’t look fine, Sammy.”

The angel’s tongue teased around the edge of his glans, then swiped completely around the head of his dick to gather the precome that practically gushed out. Blowjobs always got Sam dripping wet, and Gabriel’s sweet tooth always made the most of it. It took everything he had to keep it together as he held his brother’s gaze.

“I’m good, Dean, I swear,” Sam replied, carefully stabbing a hunk of meatloaf and managing to get it into his mouth.  _ Yeah, swear I’m going to kill this fucking angel as soon as I-- _

Gabriel’s mouth opened wide, and Sam practically choked on his food while Gabriel practically choked on his dick. Clearing his throat to get the meatloaf back where it belonged, Sam smiled at Dean, taking a generous swig of his whiskey with his fork hand while dipping the other under the table to press against Gabriel’s forehead in an effort try to stop the ridiculously amazing but thoroughly distracting assault on his dick ( _ and possibly my sanity--jury’s still out on that) _ .

The chuckle that met his ( _ ok, weak) _ resistance vibrated the significant distance down Sam’s prick until it crash-landed in his balls. It was all Sam could do to just hold on for the ride, darting small bites of his dinner up to his mouth with a hand clenching his fork so tightly he was sure his fingerprints would be pressed into the stainless steel. The angel deepthroated him almost mercilessly, spit soaking the front of his jeans as Sam’s entire pelvic region tightened in anticipation of what was going to be an absolutely epic orgasm.

The whole time, Dean kept dividing his attention between his food, his drink, and his suddenly mentally-impaired brother. Sam drained his drink with some decorum, but a particularly wicked twist of Gabriel’s tongue undid him enough that he slammed his mug back onto the table, narrowly avoiding smashing it.

“Jesus, Sammy,” Dean mumbled around his last mouthful of creamed corn. “You need another one?”

Sam was able to pull together what few wits hadn’t been sucked out through his cock and latched onto this flimsy salvation like it was a life boat on the Titanic. “Yeah, please,” was as much as he could manage coherently, but it worked. Dean gave him a weird look, then shrugged before grabbing both their cups and going back into the kitchen.

As soon as Dean was out of sight, Sam shot both hands under the table and tangled them in Gabriel’s honeyed waves. Biting his lip practically in two to keep his groans back, he thrust his hips up as he pulled the angel’s head down into his lap, fucking himself deeper and deeper into Gabriel’s throat and offering up a silent and filthy prayer of thanks that angels didn’t need to breathe.

_ So close...so close...c’mon... _ Two fingers snaked themselves between his legs and pressed through his jeans at the sensitive skin right behind Sam’s balls. He flung his head back in a silent scream as his whole body throbbed in time with his cock, pulse after pulse of come shooting straight down Gabriel’s throat until the angel pulled off enough to catch the last few spurts blatantly on his tongue. Dropping heavily back into the chair, Sam looked down at his angel, love and lust warring with frustration and annoyance.

“Don’t you EVER do that again!” Sam whisper-screamed to the supposedly-heavenly being sitting between his legs and looking far too much like the cat that got the motherfucking canary. He tried to ignore that familiar ( _and_ _  absolutely adorable, which he'd NEVER admit out loud) _ shit-eating grin on Gabriel’s face as he tucked himself back into his pants and attempted to look like he hadn’t just blown his load spectacularly into an archangel’s mouth.

Steps echoed from the kitchen. Gabriel waved quickly to Sam, then disappeared as Dean re-entered the library, drinks in hand. He stopped behind his chair, drinks out wide. “You sure you haven’t already had too much here, Sammy?”

Sam scraped together a passable bitchface. “Shut up, jerk, and give me my drink.”

Before Dean could move, Sam watched as Gabriel reappeared silently behind Dean and gave that same damn smirk. The angel then leaned over Dean’s mug slightly and rolled the mouthful of come he’d been holding off his tongue and into the whiskey before disappearing.

Dean leaned over the table and held Sam’s own mug out towards him. While some part of him--the part that was probably so drawn to Gabriel, he supposed--wanted to see the look on Dean’s face as he downed the doctored drink, ultimately his fear of their relationship being discovered ( _ Dean really was being unreasonable about the whole dying-a-hundred-different-deaths thing) _ pushed him to do the right thing.

“Dean, that’s not my cup.”

Dean looked down at the mug, arching an eyebrow to display his carefully honed  _ Have you lost your freaking mind, dude? _  expression. “Yeah, it is.”

“No, it’s not. What, did you spit in that one or something?”

“Sam, I’m not going to spit in whiskey, for Christ’s sake! That’s blasphemy!”

_ Might as well lay on the bitchy little brother act nice and thick. _ Sam stood up and gestured toward the cup holding the jizz chaser. “Yeah, right. Just give me the other one, Dean.”

Rolling his eyes vigorously, Dean shoved the mug in question into Sam’s waiting hand. “Here you go, bitch.”

“Thanks, jerk.” Raising his glass, Sam smiled at his brother. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

Dean looked at him like he was clearly off his meds, then shrugged and clinked his mug against Sam’s. “Merry Christmas to you too, Sammy.” 

Sam took a swig and tried not to look like he was testing the feel and taste of the come-blended whiskey on his tongue before swallowing it down.  _ Not bad, actually _ he thought, taking another pull from his cup.

“Oh, hey, Sam, did you know it’s Hanukkah, too?”

To his credit, Dean held himself to four rounds of “Son of a bitch!” as Sam helped clean off the whiskey he’d sprayed all over his brother. Luckily for Sam, Dean never noticed that some of it was thicker than usual.


End file.
